


A Thousand Teeth and Yours Among Them

by dietplainlite



Series: Mutually Assured Destruction [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Force Bond, Reylo - Freeform, This is probably not how the force works, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: Rey and Kylo Ren have met in battle countless times. But this time is different.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheJGatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJGatsby/gifts).



It’s different this time, but it’s not until she has to duck and roll to avoid decapitation that it’s clear to her how.

He’s not going to let her get away.

Rey and Kylo Ren have met in battle countless times now, and other than the slash she carved on his face the first time they matched sabers, they always walk away with shallow wounds.  Nicks and abrasions and burns that heal quickly with bacta patches.

They’ve never discussed it, or come to a formal agreement. Not when they meet in the strange world between world of their shared visions, and definitely not in the heat of battle.

It’s simply understood, not only because they can often feel each other’s pain.  They have both pored over available Jedi and Sith lore, and all of it confirms Kylo’s declaration when he first told her about their bond, on a black sand beach on a world that may only exist in their minds.

If one of them dies, the other will either be dragged down in death as well, or the survivor will live a shadow existence, the absence of the other leaving a never-healing wound on their soul. Neither has admitted it, but both are sure they would prefer the former.

Trouble is, Rey’s not quite ready to die.

His mind, always murky and full of traps, is impenetrable today. Of course, if he wants to kill her, he won’t want to telegraph his moves.

The atmosphere on this planet produces a sunset of blue and gold, and as he advances on her through the waist-high grass, the light bounces off of his eyes like those of the predatory beats that lurked in the Jakku dunes at night.

Her teeth rattle as she blocks another swing, the crackle of his saber changing frequency as it meets hers.

“What are you doing?” she yells over the hum of the crossed swords.  He pushes her back, making a tight pirouette and growling as he slashes at her again. She blocks and retreats as he advances.

“What I should have done a years go.”

Rey bolts and he follows, each of his strides matching two of hers.  She turns as he hacks at her again.

He keeps driving at her, relentless, pushing forward, a puppet propelled only by rage, wearing a look Rey hasn’t seen since Starkiller base.  No matter how she tries, she can’t manage an offensive move, and her arms are numb, shaken from blocking his staggering blows.  Everything fades away; the sounds of the sea below and the cries of birds and the far away battle.  There is nothing but his face and the slamming of their sabers and their ragged breath and sharp cries.

Another slash at her head. It’s so close as she blocks it that her own saber singes her hair. Before she can recover, a swipe to her side sears through her shirt and leaves a long, blistering burn.

She spins left and away from him, shutting out her own pain and the scent of burned hair and flesh. All she wants is for him to stop, no matter what she has to do.  He’s vulnerable for a split second, leaving his side open as he turns, spinning that damned red sword.  With a vicious growl, Rey plunges her saber into him.

She has killed in battle before, but this is the first time she’s ever stabbed someone like this, though she’s felt that sickening plunge over and over in Kylo’s nightmares.

It goes in more easily than she ever imagined.

At first, she feels like she’s been punched in the gut.  Surely it’s a sympathetic blow, his shields faltering from his own catastrophic injury.  They’ve resorted to physical blows before, but he hardly has the strength for that. She tries to back away, withdraw her sword.

She cant’ move.

Looking down, she expects to see herself impaled by his saber.  She looks back up at his face, at the reflection of her blade in his dark eyes, and the tears in them.

Then, the pain blooms in her own chest, like being burned from the center out, fire racing through her veins.

“Oh.”

She lets go of her sword.  It deactivates and falls to the ground, freeing them both from its grip.

When she looks up at him, his eyes are already going dull.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, a trickle of blood running down his chin.  His saber falls from his hand and he follows it, tumbling into the soft grass.

With a thud, she lands beside him.

Night has fallen, the soft cries of wildlife recommencing in the sudden quiet as Kylo and Rey gasp for breath. The air smells of burned flesh and wildflowers.  Rey looks up, at the clear sky.

She knows those moons.

_Did you know? Where we are?_

It is the planet.  Their planet.

_With the Empires archives at my fingertips, it was easy to discover a habitable planet with black sand beaches and twin moons._

_You didn’t tell me._

_I did not._

He coughs and a wave of pain overtakes her, blinding her to anything but the fire in her gut.  She doesn’t have the strength to stop or even ease it.

_Why?_

_Why didn’t I tell you?_

“Why did you kill us?” she cries with what feels like her last bit of strength.

In answer, his walls come down and a flood of images and emotion and memory pours over her, so fast it’s like standing in a rushing river catching fish with her hands.

Kylo, kneeling before his master. Days of rigor and confusion. Torture. The constant battle for dominance of his soul.  His fear he doesn’t have a soul left.

_It had to end._

_But you knew it might take me with you._

_I took a gamble that you would live. I’m sorry. I was never much good at betting._

His hand grips her wrist and she tursn her head to the side to look at him.

The scar she gave him is livid against his skin. He’s always been pale but now he is ashen, his lips turning blue at the edges. Another shuddering breath sends shards through Rey’s body.

As her vision grows cloudy around the edges, the light in Kylo Ren’s eyes goes out, the pain receding with it.

Rey’s eyes slip closed and she sinks into a warm pool, lulled by the steady strum of a heartbeat, keeping time for a singing voice.

_The mirrorbright moon lets you see_

_Those who have ceased to be_

_Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers_

Without warning, she’s yanked from the pool, cold and frightened, the angular face of a med-droid the first thing she sees.  Her cries quiet when she sees the face of General Organa.  Kylo didn’t pull him down with her, not all the way.  She’s been saved.

But, no. Wait.  The General is so young, and happy.  Rey never knew the General could eve rlook this happy.  And then Han, the Han she’s only seen in old holos, leans over Leia’s shoulder and smiles that crooked grin.

“Hey, kid.”

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again she’s standing at a window, Threepio beside her as she waves at a sleek white ship disappearing from the atmosphere. She looks up at the droid.

“Well, Master,” he says.  “Your mother will return in one standard week, but your father will be home before then. I dare say they’ll both be excited to discover what you’ve learned in their absence.  Should we start with the history of the Trade Federation?”

“I think that’s a little heavy for a four-year-old, don’t you?”

Rey turns and there’s Master Luke, impossibly young and golden, his blue eyes twinkling as he winks at her.

She steps toward him but her foot lands on nothing as the world tilts, and then she’s clawing her way out of a nightmare, screaming, sleep clinging to her like cold tar. Whispers echo in her ears like the memories and thoughts of others she hasn’t learned to block out yet.

The light comes on and Leia hurries in, clutching her robe around her. She sits on the edge of the bed and touches Rey’s forehead.  Her hairs smells like flowers and her hand is cool and soft.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“A baby was born,” she says, in a small, quiet voice.

“Oh, well that’s a good thing, dear.  Though I’m sorry this particular one decided to interrupt your sleep.  That’s what babies are best at, I suppose.”

“No! It’s not good. This one is going to kill me!”

She throws herself into Leia’s arms and sobs, clinging to the soft robe and breathing in her soft warmth.

Leia straightens.  “Ben,” she says.  “Look at me. Was this a regular dream, or a special one?”

“Special,” Rey whispers, and then is pulled into the storm in Leia’s dark eyes and emerges in a bright room with the scent of the sea in the air.

“A girl!” a med droid declares over the strident cries of a baby. A moment later, Rey looks into a face she hasn’t seen except in memory for over fifteen years.  She drinks in the big brown eyes and curly brown hair, the beauty mark on her mother’s right cheek.”

“My darling,” Mummy says. “My dear, sweet little—“

Rey is thrown into the air, and when she lands she is sitting in a field with her father, making whistles from blades of grass.  She watches his strong, tan hands fold over a tender shoto.

“Hold your thumbs just so, sweetheart,” he says, and brings the blade to his face.  She turns to look at him but he is only a silhouette, backlit by the setting un.

The sun glows brighter until she can’t see, and when the spots clear from her eyes she’s standing on a balcony overlooking a magnificent city.  Traffic buzzes all around the brightly lit towers as far down and as far up as she can see. Leia stands in front of her, looking up at her, hands fiddling with the lapels of Rey’s robe.  Leia is older than last time, but still much younger, and much happier, despite the tears in her eyes. The faint scent of flowers still floats around her.

“You’re going to learn so much,” she says.  “Your uncle and you will learn so much together. Dad and I will send messages every chance we get.  Promise you will, too?”

Leia reaches up to touch her child’s cheek and a slithering voice whispers inside Rey’s head. “Her tears are an act. She’s delighted to be rid of you.”

She turns away from Leia, looking over the edge of the balcony. “I’ll try. Maybe,” she says, in a voice not her own.

The city lights blur below as a tear rolls off her cheek into the abyss.

Silence.

The smell of burning fat and baked soil.

She opens her eyes to the back room of Unkar Plutt’s dwelling. She’s huddled on a dirty mat, crying.

“Quiet, girl,” the familiar voice says from the other room. “Crying’s a waste of time. And water.”

The blanket she pulls over her head smells of some strange beast, but it muffles her sobs until she’s able to stop crying.  When she throws the cover off, a young man is sitting in the corner, staring at her.  Everything but his eyes are in shadow, a slash of light that found its way through the boarded window cutting across his face.  The eyes are kind like her father’s, but sad like her mother’s.

“It’s going to be okay, I think,” he says. “Someday.”

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter, since you’re a dream.”

‘My mom and dad are coming to get me soon.”

“I hope so.”

Rey lays down and falls asleep as the boy tells her a story about space pirates in the Unknown Regions. The next day, when she asks Unkar Plutt where the boy went, he tells her she’s crazy and sits her down at the washing station. He starts her out washing parts so she can begin learning what they are.  As she picks up the brush a wave of nausea hits her and she drops the part she’s to clean. Unkar Plutt stalks over, hands fisted.

A violent spin and she’s huddle din a cave with a heavy rain falling outside, the tang of minerals hanging in the air.  Her uncle sleeps beside her, snoring.  Furtively, she waves her hand over him, to deepen his sleep, and pulls out the holocron she pocketed earlier while they were searching for data cubes.

It had called to her, in a song no other relic they’d searched for ever had done, vaguely familiar, like a whisper in a dream.  It scared her at the same time it felt right, as though a puzzle piece had been slotted into place.

There is no switch or latch, but when she holds it in her palm and asks it to open it blooms with a deep purple light, a cold misty energy pouring out and oozing to the floor.

Uncle Luke stirs in his sleep as a figure appears in the center of the holocron.  The cube closes with a sharp wave of her hand. She’ll have to beg off tomorrow, get some time away from her uncle.  For good measure, she does what she can to cloak the cube’s energy.  It might not be strong enough to fool Master Luke, but maybe if he’s not looking for it, he won’t find it.

The whisper skitters into her mind, telling her how clever she is to have found the holocron. To have deceived Luke Skywalker.  At peace, she closes her eyes, resting her head on her rucksack.  She dreams of dry sock and the sun beating overhead.

Hot metal.

The smell of her own sweat.

She crawls through a narrow hole in the engine room of the _Inflictor_. It’s a tight fit, her hips having rounded out in the past few months. Soon, she won’t be able to fit into spaces like this without her hatchet.

This ship has been so thoroughly picked over that the other scavengers scoffed at her this morning when she said she would work it.  There were far riper pickings, closer at hand, uncovered b the winds of the X’us’R’iia.

When she told them that something called to her they laughed, telling her she must be on the verge of heat stroke.

It doesn’t matter how often she finds the most valuable parts in the narrowest, most hidden places. The others always put it down luck. Except the Teedoes.  They say that she has a “good nose.”

With closed eyes, she reaches her hand out, the same way the water dowsers from Tuanal do with their forked rods. Her fingers tingle as she gets closer, vibrating faster and faster until she touches it.

The object she pulls back isn’t the flux connector she expected.  It’s a stone tablet, etched with strange writing. Its age is incomprehensible, even to someone tuned into the very energy of the universe.  She runs long fingers over it and it sings to her of a tree, and two children.  At a sound, she looks up, and standing in a beam of light shooting down from a crack in the temple ceiling is a girl.  The girl.

Rey’s breath catches and she fumbles the tablet, stopping its fall with the Force a moment before it reaches the stone floor  With a flick of her index finger she brings it back up, floating at waist level.  The girl tilts her head, squinting.

“Am I dying?” the girl asks.

“Not yet,” Rey says.

“But we’ll die together?”

“Will I see your face then?”

“Many times before then.”

The girl nods, solemnly, and backs out of the beam of light.  Rey bows her head and takes the tablet from the air. The writing becomes clear as she holds it at a certain angle. A searing pain cuts through her head as she starts to read it, and he slithering voice tells her to stop, lest she be seduced by lies.

The tablet slips from her hands and shatters on the ground, the world fracturing with it.

It coalesces again on a sleepless night in her AT-AT home. She is thirteen and the X’us’R’iia rages outside, thunder shaking the walls of her shelter while something tears at her insides. 

The slow grinding in her abdomen leaves her breathless on her pallet, and it’s just as well the storm prevents her from working, since she can’t walk with this pain, much less climb.  It’s happened a few times in the last couple of years, never regularly.  The blood will come soon. The women in the village told her it was normal, but that she has to be extra careful about protecting herself now.

She wants her mother.

She hates her mother for leaving her.

The bitterness of the bark she bartered for in Tuanal makes her wretch, but it does begin to help as she chews.  The pain doesn’t subside completely, but the drug does make her not care as much about it.

The visions are a side effect.  When she went back to Tuanal to get more, she asked if everyone had waking dreams when they used the bark. The medicine woman looked askance, but then waved her hand, saying some people had them but they weren’t harmful.  As Rey left the village, she spotted the woman speaking to the old explorer, Lor San Tekka.

This vision is the clearest she’s ever had.  There is a boy. The boy. No, he’s a man now.  He sits alone in a rain battered hut watching a scattered, shaky holo of a crying woman. His face is shrouded by distance and the thick rain and a wild shock of dark hair.  Rey can’t make out all of the words the woman says, but “I’m sorry” comes through clearly more than once.  She moves closer, but before she reaches the doorway, the sounds of shouting and footsteps behind her send her scurrying behind the hut to hide.  The window is out of her reach, but sharp voices fly out of it, cutting through the wind.

“Where is Master Luke? A rough voice demands.  “He’s lied to us all these years and he needs to answer for it. So do you!”

“Is this about Darth Vader?” the young man asks.  His voice has grown low and soft over the years, but tonight there is a dangerous, crackling edge to it, like the live wires Rey sometimes encounters inside wrecked ships.

“Of course it is!  It’s about Vader, and how his son and his grandson have been leading us down the path to the Dark Side against our will.”

“I didn’t know,” the young man says. “And Luke would never—look, right here. My mother just sent this to me because everything got out. She’s apologizing for not telling me.”

“Liar!” another voice cries out.  Something crashes against the back wall.

“Why should we believe her, either? She’s one of you,” the first voice says. There’s whooshing sound followed by a low, electric hum.  “Oh, the spawn of evil is going to slaughter us, is he?” the man continues.  “Just like your grandpa.  Well, try your best, lad, because we aren’t a bunch of younglings with practice sabers!”

Rey covers her ears and crounches on the ground as the whooshing sound happens again and again.  The air is soon filled with hums and whirs and screams and groans.  She shuts her eyes and starts singing to herself, a song she’s always known.

_When the moon is Mirrorbright, take this time to remember_

_Those you have loved but are gone_

_Those who kept you so safe and warm_

When she opens her eyes again, she stands in the doorway of the hut, a blue, glowing sword in her hand, its light reflecting off the bodies of her uncle’s acolytes.  Master Luke is there, rushing down the ramp of a shuttle, his feet in the mud making sickening squelches as he runs.  It sounds like wet flesh hitting the grounds.  Luke stops when he sees the destruction.

“Oh, Ben. What have you done?”

She extinguishes the sword.

Darkness.

Silence.

A voice, familiar and seductive calling her, telling her it is time.

A hurried transaction in a back alley deep on Coruscant. The battered lightsaber is inoperable, but she only needs one thing.  She dismantles the weapon in her dingy rented room and holds the crystal up to the light. It glows a dull red, a crack in its center nearly bisecting it.

It will do.

It is perfect.

Silence.

Light.

The smell of dried herbs and brewing tea.

The medicine woman is out of the special bark. 

“Are you still having those dreams when you take it?”

“Yes, but I don’t have to take it as often now.”

“You really should speak to Lor San Tekka,” the old woman insists.  She has made this suggestion many times over the years.

“Next time,” Rey says, meaning it.  “The days are too short right now. I have to go or I won’t eat today.”

Silence.

The clamor of metal on shields. The whir of a saber. Blaster fire A lapse in attention and the thoughts of a thousand soldiers seep through.

The steady security of a mask, of armor, of every inch of skin encased in darkness, so not a shred of light can get in, or, more crucially, be seen.

A steady stream of days on Jakkue passes in an instant until she’s looking into a pair of warm dark eyes in wonder. Her first Resistance fighter.

A flurry of days aboard a sterile space ship, people and thoughts skittering away from her as she strides down the corridors.  A callf rom the Light so sudden and strong it leaves her reeling and she knows the time is coming. She hasn’t had a vision of the girl in so long, but she is drifting toward her fate as inexorably as an insignificant bit of debris being sucked into a black hole.

She can’t wait.

 Another vision. A monster she swears she’s met before.

The girl.

The map. Yes, the map.  But mostlyt he girl.

The monster’s face revealed and she’s seen those eyes before.  She puts it down to the plainness of his face. He could be anyone.

But no. What is it about his eyes?

A violation. A struggle. She falls into his mind with a sickening drop and reels from what she finds, reaching out for his weakness like the most valuable component in a scuttled ship.

Who is this girl?

Where is the girl?

A bridge and a blade and a moment she’s almost blocked out except for that touch on her cheek and her mother’s pain.

A bridge and a blade and a moment she’s almost blocked out except the lick of the Dark Side at the edges of her rage, and the pain.

Snow and wind and blood and cauterized flesh.

Rage and pain and blood and pain and her. The Light of her. The pain of her. Wanting to kill her if only to devour that light.

Darkness and peace, but it isn’t death, only sedatives and the warm limbo of a bacta tank.

Salt in the air and a lone figure at the top of a hill. Answers followed by more questions. Endless days of training and nights filled with him in her head.

They meet on the beach of a dream world and he tells her they are forever linked.

They meet, again and again, on battlefields, in dreamscapes, in visions across lightyears, all of it rushing by until she plucks one moment from the stream.

A cave. A sudden blizzard howling outside. His body pressed against hers and his mouth on every part of her, her mouth on every part of him, and she doesn’t know whose eyes she’s looking through, whether she is being touched or is the owner of the hands doing the touching. To this day she doesn’t know if it really happened. If it was a dream, she doesn’t know whose it was.

She lets the memory go and it flies away, leaving her in total darkness.

A weak grey light and the stench of decay.

She stands in front of her Master, his twisted face more malevolent than before, though his eyes are full of the concern he’s bestowed upon her for years. She kneels and her Master comes down from his dais and places his hand on her head. She hates herself for how eagerly she leans into it.

“The time has come. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I fear your mother’s faith in you is the very thing keeping the spark of Light in you alive.”

“Please, Master. She’s an old woman. I hear she’s been gravely injured. There’s no need—“

“You misunderstand. I’m not ordering you to kill you rmother. I’m ordering you to kill her faith in you.  Find the girl and break her, however you see fit, but as slowly and painfully as possible. You have a strong connection with the General through the Force, and so does the girl. She’ll witness every moment as though she were there.”

“Master—“

“It is the only way. Go.”

The corridor she exits through grows longer and dimmer until she comes to a door. It slides open at a wave of her hand, revealing the bridge of Finn’s command ship.

Debriefing. They may deliver the final blow today.

A quick look at her friend and a nod as she leaves for the hangar bay.

She picks up Kylo Ren’s Force signature the moment she breaches atmosphere, only vaguely noting the glittering black sand beaches as she made her way inland, breaking from her squadron and landing in this field, high above the sea.

Her first look at him. Maskless. Sword already drawn as though he’s been waiting for centuries.

She puts his lack of armor down to arrogance.

Her. Glorious and fierce in her rage and the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.  She needs the girl’s rage or this will never work.  She advances, and advances, and advances.

It feels like a punch in the gut at first. She looks down at the blue blade entering her body, just beneath her ribcage, then into the girl’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Darkness.

Darkness.

Silence.

Red light blooms behind her eyelids. She opens her eyes to find him standing above her.

She can see through him, to the thick swath of stars and dust in the sky above.  He is bathed in shimmering light.

She stands up then turns and looks back at the ground.  He’s laid out, lightsaber at his side, face peaceful.  The moons cast their light on all.

As they watch, the body fades, a slow dissipation of light rising and circling around them like embers, until all that’s left on the ground are his clothes and weapon, and the figure standing next to her shines as bright as the moons.

She looks at him closely. His skin is smooth and umblemished and he wears the trace of a smile.

“How will she bear it?”

“She knows that in the end the Light won.”

“Will you show yourself to her?”

“In time. “

“Nothing in the lore prepared me for this. I felt your life, and your death, and all the while my own soul was being carved out.”

“It was always going to end like this.”  He says it as though he were commenting on the weather.

“I refuse to believe I didn’t have a choice!” She reaches out, to grab him and make him face her, but her hand slips through his body and she stumbles.

The pain hits her then.

No, not pain. A void, as though her chest has gone hollow.  As though the place where he took up residence in her brain has been evacuated, gutted, cleansed by fire.

She falls to her knees, overcome.  Once she witnessed a soldier, lying on the battlefield with a sucking chest wound. Is this what it’s like, but instead of gasping for air she’s gasping for—what? What does she need?

“What can I fill this with?” she sobs.

The look that crosses his face is so foreign to everything she’s known of him that it renders him unrecognizable.  There is regret—though usually he wears that in the form of shame—but also generosity and…compassion. Kneeling beside her, he reaches out, but she scrabbles backward, shaking her head.

“I can’t actually touch you,” he says. “But I want to help.”

“How?”

“I want to give you some things.”

She considers this. She can no longer read his thoughts, but when she reaches out through the Force he is there, woven into the tapestry of the Light side, where the Dark may never touch him again. He is safe, and cannot lie to her.

Nodding, she lets him move closer.  One hand reaches out to her chest, hovering above her heart, and he holds the other above her head.

“Close your eyes.”

She obeys, and warmth spreads from the top of her head down, and from her heart outward to her limbs.

Kylo Ren gives her every beautiful thing he’s ever seen or experienced.

Sunrises and sunsets on a multitude of worlds. The first time he ate a Manta pear. His mother combing burrs from his hair after a day playing in the woods with his friends, plucking so gently that it didn’t hurt a bit.

All of the times she returned home. All of the times Han returned. All of the times the two of them returned together.

Swinging through a village on Kashyyk on Chewbacca’s back, at heights more dizzying than any Rey has ever experienced.

Swimming in an ocean and encountering a school of brightly colored fish. Swimming among them until the tide went out.

A lightsaber, brilliant and blue.

Lazily spinning a batch of brightly colored marbles in the air, creating a solar system, splashes of color swirling across the walls of his room.

This first time flying the _Falcon_.

His last time flying it.

Rey’s own face, her own body, her own breathless cries.

Countless more moments flow into her heart and mind. He gives it all to her and the emptiness grows smaller, until it’s the nagging of a previously broken bone on a cold wet night, or a scar that gives a twinge when you move a certain way.

“I never saw any of this,” she says.

“I buried it deep. Away from Snoke. Away from myself.”

“Thank you,” she says. It sounds absurd and small.

“Good night, Rey.”

The warmth subsides and she opens her eyes to an empty field, the moons low in the sky, waves crashing far below, the sounds of battle silenced.

Dew has settled on her skin. She shivers and stands, turning a full circle, confirming her solitude.

Though she will never be alone.

Stooping, she picks up her enemy’s weapon, marveling at its size and weight. She tucks it into her belt. Run toward her ship.

As she climbs the ladder, she takes one last look behind, to the grass waving in the remains of the moonlight. 

There, in the distance, is a bright silver glow.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "In a Week" by Hozier, which also inspired this story. Though initially they were both going to die. I wimped out on that one when it came time to kill Rey
> 
> "Mirrorbright" lyrics from Bloodline by Claudia Gray.


End file.
